The Suicide Photographer
I am a photographer. People hate my work. You may ask why, but when you see my shots, you'll understand. My work is very controversial. I am sadly proud of my photos, for I may be the only one who's adopted this style. I capture photos of suicide. No matter where I go, I carry my camera with me, ready to shoot anything that may happen. There's surprisingly a lot of suicides in this city and the next city over. I've gotten beautiful shots. The most common ones are those of people jumping from buildings. Of course, there's usually a crowd of people pleading for the person to come down, so I know right away what I am about to get. I stand to get a good perspective, hold up my camera, and snap the photo right as the person plunges to their demise. I take a couple one after the other so I make sure to get the perfect shot. People surrounding me shout at me and call me heartless. On the contrary, I am more caring than them. That person wanted to end their life, so they had a perfect reason to make that decision. I'm showing them support and kindness by capturing their last moments. However, I don't remember the last time I smiled. I have a splendid dark room to develop my photos, which I pin to the walls in my house. I have pictures of jumpers, people shooting themselves, taking pills or cyanide, jumping in front of a train, people stabbing themselves, and even some more unorthodox methods. It's funny. I can see the idea form in their heads by looking into their eyes or reading their body language. For most of the most spontaneous ones, like the shooters or the train jumpers, I kindly approach them, explain that I'm not going to stop them, and ask if I could take a picture as they commit suicide. I've never had someone say no. The model will even wait for my cue. I have them point the gun to their head, and give them the signal to shoot. I wait until the train is close enough as they stand there, preparing to jump, and I give them the go. Some even give me their names so that I can attend the funeral and visit their grave. They ask me for a copy of the photo. I oblige, but I lock the photo in a box so no one takes it away. From below the earth, I can almost hear the faint "thank you" coming from the coffin. I couldn't make money off my hobby. No one wanted to show my art. But I think I've found someone who will... It's a suicide cult. I let them know what I do, and that I myself don't want to end my life, but they are awed by what I do. As their cult grows, so does my gallery, for now we have scheduled photo shoots. We have our own art gallery for people fascinated with suicide. I've even had a few non-suicidal people come in just to admire the horror. I'm making money now. Capturing suicides is now my career. Here's my card. Call me to schedule an appointment. Category:Reality Category:Photography